Rehashing Advent: The dark, the light and the Hallelujah

The Hallelujah

I was really excited this year about Jack visiting from Costa Rica for Christmas. Jack is my mother's cousin, and I met him for the first time last spring when Mom and I visited Santa Ana. He's a really fun person, and he and I are very alike in spirit and humor.

The last few weeks I have been preparing for Jack's arrival. Although he was only spending one night at my house before going to stay with my Aunt Mame, I wanted everything to be perfect. I scrubbed my apartment from top to bottom. It took five hours. I even cleaned the inside of my medicene cabinet. Did I think Jack would care about my medicene cabinet? No. But I cared. I cleaned my pantry. I bought a six pack of Coors, his favorite American beer. I put together a selection of books for him to read. I spent two days creating the most "welcome back to New England" meal I could think of, Beef and Potato stew with Guinness.
Before I left for the airport Tuesday night I set the table for two, turned the crock pot to "simmer," and put Dad's old leather jacket in my car so Jack would have something warm to wear. Everything was perfect.

Then everything fell apart. Jack didn't get off the plane. While other happy families reunited at the gate, I stood holding Dad's heavy jacket, distraught and worried. I got terse with a security guard who sent me to the wrong gate. I had Jack paged. Someone looked up his name and told me Jack had missed the flight; he was on the next one. I had two hours to wait. I sat and thought about the stew simmering away in my kitchen. I thought about how early I had to get up for work. I longed for my ipod. I got grumpy.

Once Jack arrived, things started looking up. We didn't stop talking all the way home. I forgot how tired I was, and put my early morning shift out of my mind. On the way to my apartment we passed a pizza place. Jack nearly jumped out the window of the car because he hadn't had a decent slice of pizza in twelve years. Excited for his "first" taste of American pizza, I stopped the car quickly, and he ran into the little store. Then I remembered my stew at home and started to laugh out loud.

I had spent all this time preparing and working and planning. In the end it was a good thing because my house was clean and comfortable, and Jack ended up eating some stew after his pizza anyway. But still, things didn't go as I planned.

This Advent I promised myself I'd really prepare a place for Jesus. I tried to be mindful every single day. I said I'd pray an hour a day at least. I told myself I'd find extra prayer services to attend. In the end, I didn't do that hour of prayer every single day. But I did pray more often. And I missed Mass twice but I went to a very moving yoga - prayer service at Hope Church. I also attended Taize, which I wouldn't have done if I hadn't missed Mass last week.

In and of itself preparing is not generally bad or futile. Because otherwise the apartment would be cluttered , the fridge would be gross and there'd be no six pack of Coors.
But flexibility is key in planning. It's important to keep in mind that airlines aren't always on time and that sometimes a man just wants a slice of pizza.

We can pray for Grace and make ourselves as open as possible in preparation, but it's still all up to God. Rigidity in faith, I am learning, might not be as useful as I once thought it was.

So, (ready for a corny and moralizing anaology to end this one?) I'm going to keep making stew but I'm not going to freak out about how many potatos to buy,* because in the end we might end up just getting a pizza and eating both.


Hallelujah!
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*right, Shannon?

Stories from Costa Rica: Jack's house

I couldn't see the second lizard. I think I was looking at the first one, and Mom said she saw it too, but I  was beginning to think there was no second lizard.

"It's RIGHT there," David insisted. 

We were standing on a small foot bridge at the base of a set of steps that led back up to the yard shared by Jack, David  and several other people. All around us giant green plants screened the sunshine but I could still feel it on my shoulders. I had seen the parade of ants carrying leaves, but for the life of me couldn't see the basilisk David was pointing to.

Suddenly it jumped off the rock and ran down the small ravine, it's feet stepping lightly on the surface of the water. Mom and I laughed with delight and David just shook his head. After all, this is where he lives.

After exploring a bit more, I climbed back up into direct sunlight.  The smell of flowers greeted me with a small breeze. David swam around the pool, occasionally doing a flip off the edge. Jack was arranging breakfast on the table, a plethora of fruits we had purchased from "the melon man," on our way over this morning.  Jack and Mom stared at me as I tried to cut up a mango and finally Jack burst out laughing. "Give me that," he demanded.

He skillfully served up the rest of my battered fruit. 

"This is why I live here," Jack said, gesturing at everything we could see. Mango ran off my fingers, and another breeze moved the big white canopy just slightly. I've rarely seen my mother so relaxed.  I began to wonder about the nursing job market. 

Costa Rica Update

Mom and I arrived finally, and safely after a delay in Houston. I am writing this from my cousin Jack´s computer. The keyboard is a bit different, so I struggled to get into my account for five minutes trying to find the @ symbol. One combination of buttons I pushed made the cursor arrow turn into a rainbow. That´s part of why this will be short. The other part is because every minute I spend here is a minute I am not sitting by the pool eating a(nother) mango.

For lunch today we went to "the melon man" and we bought scores of fresh fruit for about two dollars. I can have all the avacados I want.

Jack met us at the airport with his friend Abus, and we took a quick ride up long and narrow roads scattered with pedestrians, dogs and bicyclists to get to Villa Antigua where Mom and I are staying. The owner of Villa Antigua is Denis. Right now we are the only guests there. Denis told us to make ourselves at home because his house is our house. And it´s a nice house. Denis made us breakfast this morning, gallo pinto, and black coffee.

Denis has two dogs, and one of them has taken to following me around. He waited for me this morning at the door of my room, and even followed me to the bathroom. He laid by my feet during breakfast, not begging... just waiting. Yes, I´ve been here two days and already adopted a pet. His name is close to ¨"bobby" but I call him perrocito.

Last night Jack took us to his favorite hang out, Bar Amigo. There we met an amazing cast of characters including the owner, ¨"Weymouth Pete" and a man named Jerry who convinced me to go to the Festival de Cebolla which was going on down the street. We also met Jack´s next door neighbor who is about my age. David is originally from California and teaches English here. He came with us to the Festival later, and then to dinner and karaoke. At the Festival, which reminded me of the stalls and stalls outside of the temples in Japan, I lost myself in the smells and lights and music. I bought a CD of pan flute music. Read this as: I might have been drinking a little bit. We capped the night off back at Bar Amigo where Jack and Mom made me step dance for everyone. You know, because I don´t look Irish enough.

Oh! Did I mention, I also saw a horse tap dancing? It´s just something they do here apparently.

I could go on and on and on but I want to go back outside because David (who called in sick today) showed me some baby basilisks running down the river a little while ago and then he saw an big adult one, but I didn´t. And I won´t if I stay inside.